


One Day At A Time

by seonghwhydoidothis



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: And Mingi shows him that he's not :'), Angst, Friendship, I somehow managed to write a fic based off of a song that came out a little over 24 hours ago, I think I cried literally the whole time i wrote this, Lots of Angst, M/M, Oops, San feels alone, They're all friends, but I didn't feel like tagging, every single pairing, fluff if you squint, it's really sad, like it has a happy ending but wow it's real sad, someone save seonghwa, sorry - Freeform, very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seonghwhydoidothis/pseuds/seonghwhydoidothis
Summary: San issensitive. That's what people tell him. San takes everything to heart. And he always gets hurt. One night he finally decides that he'stired, that he's not going to go out with his friends and internalize things the whole night. And Mingi knows that something isn't right. San finally breaks the divide between him and his friends, pouring his heart out to Mingi and finally realizing that he doesn't have to be happy all the time around them, that his friends will be there for him no matter what.
Relationships: Choi San & Choi Jongho, Choi San & Jeong Yunho, Choi San & Jung Wooyoung, Choi San & Kang Yeosang, Choi San & Kim Hongjoong, Choi San & Park Seonghwa, Choi San & Song Mingi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	One Day At A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves! I apologize for this fic, it's so sad omg I was just kinda feeling kinda sad yesterday and I've been streaming fever pt 1 and One Day At A Time came on and this fic was born. I hope you enjoy it, this is 100% based off of my own experiences, and I hope that none of you are going through the same thing. If you are, there will always be a Mingi for you, I promise. Stay strong, thank you for reading, and I love you all <3

San was tired of being called sensitive. He couldn’t help it. If someone said something mean to him, he was going to think about it for a long time. 

Except, it really wasn’t the mean things that got to him the most. It was more the not-nice things. It was a side comment from a friend about how he needed to _calm down_ when he was getting too excited, it was a _‘no, I’m tired,’_ in response to his _‘Do you want to hang out?’_. Or it was a, _‘No, I have plans with friends that day.’_ when he was trying to plan something fun. _Friends_. Like San wasn’t one of them. Like San was the tag-along, the one that didn’t belong. That wasn’t wanted.

He was sick of it. He couldn’t help but overanalyze those things. A, _‘No, I’m tired,’_ always translated to, _‘No, I’m tired of you,’_ a, _‘calm down’_ meant _‘you’re annoying me because I don’t care about this like you do, and I don’t want to hear you anymore,’_. San was really really tired of hearing those things. Feeling those things. And he was really tired of not being able to do anything about them. 

Because he couldn’t just _stop talking_. As much as he _would_ if he could, to make his friends happy, if they were getting tired of him, he couldn’t just stop talking. He had too many words inside of him. All fighting to come out. And sometimes they came out loud, sometimes they came out soft. But they always ended up coming out. He could never stop that. 

But he sure as hell tried. 

The problem with that was that he ended up bottling all of those words inside of him for hours, while his friends talked amongst themselves. He’d eat something to keep his mouth occupied. So that no words would slip out. Or he’d busy himself with his phone. That kept him thinking about other things. He was happy to just be with his friends. But then, inevitably, the words would force their way out. And San would end up talking all at once, letting all of the words rush out of him at the speed of light and at maximum volume, and that’s when the _‘calm down’_ s happened. 

So no, it wasn’t the mean things from bullies or ignorant idiots that hurt the most. It was just the not-nice things from his friends. He knew that it shouldn’t have affected him that much, why couldn’t he just believe that Seonghwa was tired in general rather than tired of him when he’d asked to hang out last week? Or why Yunho couldn’t have just been worried about the volume of San’s voice being too high for a public setting two days ago when he’d asked San to calm down? Why did it always have to be so complicated? So much more than what was said?

For these reasons, San often felt unwanted. Again, like he was just along for the ride, or just there because he wanted to be. Like he’d invited himself. Of course, when the opposite happened, and a tiny good thing happened, San would be happy about that. If someone texted him first. Because that meant that they sought him out, they _wanted_ to talk to him. They weren’t just replying. 

But the good never amounted to the bad. The bad always managed to push itself to the front of San’s mind, and as much as he wished that the bad would teach him how to be quieter, how to _calm down_ , it never did. He never learned. 

So, when San got a text from his friends’ group chat, that Hongjoong was planning a trip to the _mini-golf course_ , and that they’d be getting dinner afterwards, San took a moment to think. He wasn’t feeling great lately. He’d come to realize how unwanted, how lonely he felt, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to subject himself to that any more than he had to. He loved his friends, but he wasn’t sure if they loved him. 

\--

Usually, San loved mini-golf. Mostly because he got to smack people with the club. Mingi was a victim of this himself many times. A golf-club to the ass was never pleasant. So when San shot a blunt, _‘No thanks, maybe next time. I’m kinda tired today.’_ to their group chat after Hongjoong had posed a round of mini-golf, Mingi knew that something was off. San was never tired, anyways. Even a sleepy San would perk up at the chance to whack Jongho over the head with a club.

So Mingi pulled up his private message thread with San, that had last left off with him having laughed at a meme that San had sent him. Come to think about it, the meme was a crying cat meme. Was San okay?

_‘Hey, San, are you okay?’_ Mingi wasn’t great with words. He hoped that would be enough.

\--

San felt his phone buzz on the bed beside him but he left it alone, not wanting to see the rest of his friends make plans that he’d excluded himself from. He knew it was his fault he wasn’t coming, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt to see them having fun without him. He just laid back and closed his eyes, willing the tears away that seemed to never leave. They were always there, hiding just behind his eyes, invisible to anyone who didn’t look hard enough. No one ever looked hard enough.

\--

Mingi became even more concerned when he got no reply from San. San loved texting his friends, Mingi could pretty much guarantee a reply from San within ten seconds or less. He waited one minute. He waited two. He waited five. He waited ten. He waited twenty. He waited thirty.

By fifty minutes with no reply, Mingi was balancing two tubs of ice cream, one being his favorite flavor and the other San’s, on top of a warm pizza box, with a bag full of sour candies and sweets and drinks dangling from his fist as he stood outside of San’s door. He rang the doorbell, knowing that he’d probably have to wait a few minutes before San would answer. The pizza box was beginning to sting his hands, his palms turning red from the heat as he rang a second time, determined to annoy San out of bed, or wherever he was. 

By the fourth ring the door was wrenched open, a _very_ annoyed San standing there for a split second before he registered who it was and _what_ it was, face morphing into one of utter confusion.

“Mingi?”

“ _San_?” Mingi imitated San’s incredulous tone, stepping forwards and bumping San back into his apartment. San scrambled to step out of Mingi’s way, watching dumbfoundedly as the man set the pizza box on San’s coffee table, carefully scooting San’s stuffed shiba inu aside. He knew how much that thing meant to San, he knew he had to be careful with it. He scooted the stuffed animal over, plopping down on the couch and grabbing San’s remote. Netflix was queued before San had even unfroze from his position, Mingi’s finger hovering over the select button on the remote.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna come sit down? Pizza’s gonna get cold. Oh, and the ice cream, I’m gonna go pop it in the freezer. I’ll grab plates, or do you want to just eat over the box?” 

San finally shut his mouth after a moment of floundering, shaking his head slightly and wiping his (probably sweaty) hands on his jeans, “Um,” He knew that he was going to be receiving absolutely no explanation for Mingi’s behavior, so he just went along with it, “I’ll help you get plates.”

“M’kay.” Mingi smiled, setting off towards the kitchen with San padding behind him. Mingi managed to squeeze each tub into the freezer, quickly shutting the door as he knew that something was going to fall the second his hand wasn’t holding it in place. Opening it would be a pain, but it was gonna be fine.

San had two plates ready and waiting on the counter by the time Mingi was done and he let a small smile creep onto his face when San plated his pizza for him. San knew exactly what Mingi wanted. Which toppings, which slice, and how many. Mingi thanked San as he reached into the plastic grocery bag, pulling out a beer and a soda side by side. 

“There’s a few of each in there for each of us. Figured we could have some fun.”

Mingi took off once again towards the living room, flopping back down onto San’s couch and clicking on some superhero movie on Netflix. 

San joined Mingi soon after, his own drinks and plate in his hands as he walked into his living room. He noticed that Mingi had pushed all of the pillows over to one side of the couch, so that San was seated directly beside him. 

Mingi tore into his pizza without any hesitation, leaving San to sit and tentatively take bites our of the bread. Mingi was finished before San, setting his plate down on the ground and kicking off his shoes, pulling his feet up onto the sofa and readjusting himself so that he was curled up against the arm.

San ate in silence, taking sips of his beer and his soda in equal measures, finally finishing his pizza and setting his own plate down. When San straightened again Mingi’s head was instantly in his lap, a blinding grin sent up at San. San couldn’t help but smile back, reclinding and letting Mingi settle in his lap.

Despite his best friend having bought tons of junk food, drinks, candies, and pizza for San, despite said best friend literally laying in his lap, San’s thoughts began drifting. Even if Mingi didn’t hate him, what if everyone else did? And what if they sent Mingi over to appease San so that they wouldn’t have to see him? 

Mingi stared up at San after feeling the man go stiff around him, seeing that San’s brows were furrowed and his gaze was locked on a spot on the screen. Mingi made sure that San wasn’t actually watching the movie, rather, seeing the screen, before reaching up to poke at San’s lower lip that was half tugged into his mouth as he bit it nervously. San jumped, looking down at Mingi and barely avoiding a finger to his eye. 

“You’re thinkin’ “

“Hm?” 

“Well,” Mingi grinned, “You don’t do it very often, so I notice when you do.”

San hummed, letting his gaze fall back on the movie, though it never followed the actions on the screen.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mingi sat up, propping his head up in his hands on the back of the sofa.

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” San smiled, shaking his head. Mingi wasn’t fooled, he saw San smile every day, and he knew when the man was faking it.

“I know something’s wrong. And that you just don’t want to tell me. But you don’t have to be happy all the time. You’re allowed to be sad, or angry, or upset. Just because I’m your friend and you want to make me happy doesn’t mean that you have to make yourself miserable.”

San had turned his head away from Mingi halfway through the man’s short speech, trying to hide the tears that dripped off of his cheeks and landed in his lap. He took a moment to breathe, biting his lip so that sobs didn’t come clawing their way out of his mouth.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know that.”

Mingi let his gaze fall back on the movie, though his mind was definitely still lingering on San as his hand slid across the cushions to take hold of San’s own.

San took a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing Mingi’s hand as he too let his eyes lock onto the tv. Both saw the characters on the screen, though neither watched them, instead zoned out and paying attention to the thousands of thoughts flying around their heads. 

San spoke first, clearing his throat lightly to make sure that he could get the words that he needed to say out without the lump in his throat blocking them. 

Mingi turned to San when the shorter man cleared his throat, watching as San opened and closed his mouth several times. Mingi turned, leaving the movie playing in the background. Sometimes, it was better to have background noise. It didn’t make the situation seem as paralyzing. He hoped it would help San.

“Mingi,” San struggled saying even that, brain desperately trying to form words that he didn’t even know were there.

“Take your time. I’ll be here.” Mingi looked down at San’s hand in his own, seeing that San had definitely been biting his nails. The skin around his fingernails was cracked, raw, and bleeding in several places, probably a product of nervous habit. 

“I’m gonna go get some peroxide. You think about what you want to say, if you want to say it. I’ll be right back.” Mingi reluctantly let go of San’s hand, heading to the bathroom to find the big bottle of hydrogen peroxide that San kept under his sink. Mingi grabbed cotton balls and band-aids, carrying all three things back out to the living room. Mingi plopped back down into his seat, taking San’s hands gently into his once again. He focused on the left one first, dabbing peroxide on San’s fingertips where the skin was broken and raw. San tensed and Mingi apologized softly, knowing that the peroxide stung.

San kept quiet while Mingi cleaned him up, bandaged his fingers, and put the supplies back, but he knew he had to say something when Mingi came back. San sighed, fiddling with his fingers that were nearly all bandaged at the tips. Mingi tutted, pulling San’s hands into his own and squeezing them tight.

“Don’t do it anymore. I just cleaned you up, don’t make me put more peroxide on there.” Mingi teased, knowing that San had hated the feeling of the alcohol burning in his cuts.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to talk now, or should we eat some more? I got your favorite candies, and we can-”

“No, I’ll talk.” San was lightly buzzed, his brain feeling _blurry_ as he tried making sense of his thoughts.

“I just feel,” San paused, looking down at his hands in Mingi’s, “Alone.”

“Now?”

“Always.”

“Even when you’re with people?” Mingi vaguely knew what San was getting at, but he didn’t want to assume anything. San would tell him what was going on.

“It’s not so much physically alone. More mentally. Even now that you’re here I still feel like I’m isolated.”

“How can you un-isolate yourself?” Mingi wasn’t sure if San even knew how.

“I dunno. I haven’t felt like I wasn’t alone in a long time. I forgot how to feel like that.”

“Does talking help?”

“A bit, I suppose.” San mused, swallowing once he shut his mouth. 

“Then you can talk to me. I’ll be here to listen. Always.”

So San talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. He told Mingi how much it hurt when the tiniest comments were made, how his brain took the words that came out of his friends’ mouths and twisted them into insults, into knives that stuck themselves deep into his heart and stayed there forever. 

Mingi never interrupted. He nodded, he sometimes cooed in sympathy or adoration (Mingi really loved his best friend), but he never spoke. It wasn’t his turn. When San’s mouth finally shut, after all of the thoughts had escaped from his brain and poured themselves out all over Mingi, the taller man thought about his words carefully before speaking.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way. Because we love you, so much. It never means anything more than what’s said, but I can understand how you might twist it to mean more. Have you looked at our group chat since you last texted?”

San shook his head and Mingi grabbed his phone, handing San the device open to their group thread.

_JH: Aw, okay, rest well! We’ll miss you! <3_

_YH: Can I hit Seonghwa with a golf club for you this time? I’d be honored to stand in._

_SH: SAN SAY NO_

_SH: But either way, even if you do give that brat permission to kill me, I still hope you feel better soon. Love you, San :)_

_HJ: I’ll still order your favorite for you San, I’ll take it home and keep it in my fridge for you. Next time you crash at my place you can have it._

_WY: San who’s gonna laugh at Seonghwa with me when I push him into the lake :(_

_SH: When you w h a t_

_WY: nOtHiNg!!!1!!1!_

_YS: w h y is my phone blowing up_

_YH: Read the texts, dumbass_

_YS: >:(_

_YS: Oh, feel better, San. Do you want us to come over instead? We could have a sleepover and then I get to draw on everyone’s faces :)_

_HJ: I feel like your sentiments are less focused on San resting well, and more your own personal gain…_

_YS: :))) Love you San_

San chuckled, reaching up to wipe tears off of his cheeks. He loved his friends. 

“We all care about you. I know some days are worse than others, but on those days, you know you can always come to us. And if you don’t want to tell _everyone_ else, you can just come to me. You’re my best friend, San. I care about you. I don’t want you to be unhappy. If you’re not happy I’m not happy.”

San surged forwards, throwing his arms around Mingi’s shoulders and burying his face in the taller boy’s shoulder. Mingi cooed, squirming slightly so that his legs weren’t splayed to the side but folded under him. Mingi tugged San closer, letting his friend slump into his lap and across his chest. San was probably getting tears (and let’s face it, a little bit of snot), all over Mingi’s shirt but he was just so _happy_ because someone finally looked close enough to see that San wasn’t okay, Mingi had broken down the barrier that San’s brain had put up to keep his thoughts at bay. The tears that no one looked close enough to see were finally loose, Mingi had looked close enough to see them and he’d set them free, he’d set San free. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. San knew that he couldn’t just tell his brain to stop. But he’d work on it, because he needed to. He’d take it slow, take it one day at a time. Because he knew that his friends were there for him, that Mingi was there for him. He’d always have Mingi.

“Mingi?”

Mingi hummed, peering down to meet San’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It wasn’t a task, it wasn’t a chore. I’m happy to help you. I love you, San.”

“Love you too, Mingi.”


End file.
